Who Snotty Or Nice?

'll be honest with you. It has not been pretty around here. We've had fevers and congestion and sore throats and whining. One misguided Google search had me half convinced Savannah should be rushed to the Emergency Room and Chris had to scrape me down from the ceiling.

Why is it that children only get sick on weekends and holidays? And why is it that primary doctors cannot take note of this and maybe NOT take two entire weeks off, funnelling all of their patients to the Unnamed Impersonal Physician Group who may or may not answer the phone depending upon their 3 1/2 hour lunch break and have ambiguous addresses like "2 Medical Center"?

We spent the holiday weekend at my mom's with my parents and my cousin, Thomas (aka "the most fashionably dressed person ever who has The Office U.K. continuously being fed to him through a hole in his brain connected to his iPod and who makes me laugh until I pee").

As we were leaving to see a movie I noticed Savannah looked flushed and took her temperature: 100 degrees.

OF COURSE. Why wouldn't she get a fever when it's Christmas Eve and we're 200 miles from home? So, that threw our weekend a bit since I walked around the whole time wielding a thermometer and asking my mom a THOUSAND TIMES if she thought I should be worried. And no answer was ever the right answer.

"Mom, do you think it's bad that her fever keeps bouncing around?"

"No, that's normal. It's a virus."

"Does she seem congested to you?"

"No, honey. She's fine."

"Well, mom. She's NOT FINE. She HAS A FEVER."

"She's just fighting off a virus."

"Are you sure she doesn't seem a little congested mom?"

"No, uh-uh."

"But, MOM. If she's not congested then SHE HAS NO OTHER SYMPTOMS and Google says a fever without other symptoms DOES NOT MEAN GOOD THINGS. SO, ONE MORE TIME MOM: DOES SHE SEEM CONGESTED??"

"Yes. Oh, yes. You can hear it in her voice. Definitely a little congested."

Savannah was in good spirits though, so she still had a great time. We took her to see Night at the Museum, which she loved. The movie was funny in, as my cousin would say, a "look! the silly dinosaur is wearing a hat! ha!" kind of way rather than a genuinely funny way.

But. What was HILARIOUS was the guy who was sitting in the middle of our aisle. Who got up in the middle of the movie and on his way past us plowed right through our popcorn, candy, and soda cups on the floor. Without ever slowing down, looking down, or acknowledging in any way that he had just trampled through our snacks. We were giggling at his cluelessness and uprighting what we could on the floor when he came back. I quickly moved my legs to the side as he stormed through once again completely taking all the food with him, catching my popcorn bucket on his foot and carrying it a few feet.

Then he sat down and continued watching the movie without a glance in our direction. Who DOES that?

It may not seem funny to you dear reader, but my cousin and I peed ourselves. PEED OUR SELVES.

The rest of the weekend involved alot of drinking, laughing, and melting cheese on things.

My Mom and Savannah

Also, dog hair. Lots and lots of dog hair. Which my cousin spent 23 hours a day meticulously picking off of his pants.

Me & My Mommy

And doing totally stupid crap like saying "Let's jump for no reason whatsoever when your mom takes our picture".

Cousin Foolery

It was glorious.

Now that we're back home I'm having trouble getting back into the swing of things. I'm grateful Savannah is feeling better, but my friends are out of town all week and I realize what an anemic social life I have. For instance, Chris asked if we were going to both the store AND the library today and I responded "No. If we go to the library today, we'll have nothing to do tomorrow".

I'm slowly being pickled.

Oh, right. I DO still have the yearly photo letter to work on. I'm touched so many of you requested one, by the way. Also, surprised so many of you would willingly give up your home address. How do you know that's really a picture of me up there? Maybe I actually look like Grizzly Adams and have my own woodshed. *insert maniacal laughter*

Anyway. Those will be in the mail this weekend. I've never written a Yearly Letter before - and when I tried I couldn't help but feel pretentious at best and horribly depressed at worst - so I'm just sending a family photo. Let's be honest, everyone just wants the cheesecake anyway. No one cares about Tommy's Little League or Skip's big promotion. (Although now that I think about it, if Chris did get a big promotion I'd be shoving that down y'alls throat for sure.)

Hope you all had a wonderful time with your family and peed your pants as much as we did.


If Only We Were Going To Be Honest

Edited To Add: I'll assume you're like my husband and need to be TOLD to click on the links because they're pictures. And they're funny.

Our Yearly Letter, if we weren't big liars, would go something like this.


Dear Family & Friends,

How are the holidays finding you? Well we hope.

After finally settling into Boringtown, Chris and Lena realized that they would rather die than live another day here.

Lena began painting 50 bajillion cabinets and slept in her free time while Chris has spent an inordinate amount of the year getting high on sawdust in the garage.

Tragically, they soon realized that even their hard work and Target scented candles couldn't counteract the godforsaken housing market and they told the realtor to take a hike.

This is where they really started fighting and if it weren't for their mutual love of Mexican food it is hard to say if they would have made it through.

Shortly thereafter Lena finally got the colonoscopy she'd had her eye on all year. It went nicely with her hypochondria and, as you know, invasive procedures are all the rage this season.

Lena has also managed to maintain a toehold in the "mommy blogging" industry. She's begun using big words like "freelance" and her diet is now filled with meals that require only one hand. She has been rewarded with a ten pound larger ass and a freakish obsession with other people's lives.

Also, all her plants died.

And she has a bald spot.

Chris has been working more than ever this year and aside from the realization that his beautiful and talented wife is more expensive than his own personal geisha would be, he is doing just fine. The doctor says as long as he stays on his meds and Lena keeps her distance, he should be clear of any more "episodes".

They have relisted their house. Pray for them.

Savannah has continued to blossom and thrive as only a child of theirs can. She can command attention, snacks, and crafts at any time of the day due to her mother's clueless parenting style and loves nothing more than a good game of "Can I have the change I find in dad's pants in the laundry?".

Her only complaints are that her parents keep getting in her way of ruling the world and they need more popsicles in the house.

Savannah Powers

She would also like to state for the record that Zach is way cuter than Cody.

Allie is destroying the lawn and stealing beer. She is going in the next stew.

Dogs Have Vices Too

Jack and Oliver want you to know that the wet food has stopped without explanation and they've been sleeping in drawers. They urge you to call PETA.

A Cry For Help

Warmest Regards,

The Whole Famn Damily

The Cheeky Lotus Family

P.S. Lena is still barren. Send babies.


If you seriously want a Yearly Photo Letter, email me your address. Think how much it will be worth on Ebay! That's a quick 25 cents I'll tell you what.

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Here's a bit of trivia: How many viewings of Parent Trap does it take for your head to explode? You thought it was five? Hahaha. Novice. It's actually eleven.

Savannah was just a little too agreeable yesterday. Which is always a sign she's getting sick.

We took her to see Charlotte's Web. Which, I should warn you, will send you into an existential tailspin when you realize that this was the very first book you read on your own, the first piece of literature to evoke strong emotions in your 8-year-old little heart. And now here you are with your daughter watching her face light up as she experiences Charlotte's magic.

And you'll realize you've grown up. And out of believing in magic.

And then her sweet upturned face will furrow it's brow and ask you "Mommy, why does Charlotte have to die?". And you'll wonder whether you're a grownup after all because you're actually crying over an animated spider and sputtering "Because it's her time".

Fortunately your husband will know what to do. And soon his popcorn will be yours.

Anyway, while most children become difficult and stubborn and cranky when they're ill, my child becomes the most adorable little girl: babbling on happily, requesting kisses, snuggling. That's when I knew to take her temperature. 101.3.

The thing about your child being sick is that it gives you permission to just BE. You have no expectations for the day, no hygenic requirements, and only stop flipping through Lucky magazine in bed long enough to remove your child from the crook of your arm and retrieve more Rice Krispies.

There's none of the usual pressure to make the day productive because hello I'm keeping a child alive here through my own sheer will, thank you very much. Now, can you get me the Grey's Anatomy DVD? Yes, again.

I'm trying not to focus too much on the fact that normally at this time on Mondays I have a mouth full of sesame bagel with onion garlic cream cheese and I'm watching The View.

And I'm definitely not going to think about the fact that we're listing our house in ONE WEEK and my bathroom looks like this:

My Un-Dream Bathroom

Or that I have great plans to turn this:

This is my life. Pretty much.

Into this:

My Dream Playroom

In one week. With today being the ONLY DAY I was going to have by myself. I'm not even thinking about it. Technically. But, I am crying about it.

Also, budget shmudget because my baby is sick and if she wants a $10 Starbucks snowman walking a dog then I'm getting it.

She immediately set to work on ripping the dog away.
"Now, let me see how I can deconstruct this into twenty pieces I can leave on the floor."
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Let's Just Say I'm Sick and Leave It at That

I once read a blog where the author asked her readers how often they have sex. All the women came out of the woodwork (what does that phrase mean anyway? I imagine people bursting out of walls and doorframes). Anyway, I swear she had over 100 comments of women pouring their hearts out divulging the intimate and sometimes embarrassing aspects of their sex lives. Almost everyone claimed the same average frequency: once or twice a week. Then the author returned the next day and said something like "Oh my. I had no idea. We do it twice a day every day.".

I remember feeling irritated with her, as if she had drawn everyone out knowing full well that she was going to trump them.

I feel a little like that right now. Except the opposite. Because I knew what I've been doing to our financial situation could not possibly be the norm, but I just had to know for sure.

Because: $3,000.00.

Three THOUSAND dollars.

That is what I've been spending (what we've been spending - Chris does go to McDonalds once a week and one time even purchased printer toner without my knowledge. the luxuries I put up with from that man, I swear) every month on inessentials.

From your comments I suggest you 1) Print out the last three month's bank statements and 2) put a tick mark next to everything you could have done without. Because if you had asked me a week ago what I blow every month I would have guessed $500. Again for emphasis: Three Thousand Dollars. *gag*

Let's break down mine, shall we? Here are some excerpts from November's statement:

(Click to see full carnage)

Why my husband can't sleep at night.

Why my husband can't sleep at night. Why my husband can't sleep at night.


And irony of all ironies! I'm now paying $9 every month to myfooddiary so that I can DOCUMENT all the FOOD and COFFEE I've been shoving down my fat piehole!

Chris died a little when he realized that if I went back to work for FREE we would make $3,000 more a month because my mere absence from this house would save as much as my full time salary would bring in.

Sobering, no?

And the saddest part is we are totally nickel and diming ourselves to death! I do not have a closet full of designer clothes. I shop for discounts and sales. All of this time I could have been buying Manolos! Or 300 pairs of panties for Britney Spears! Instead I'm buying coffee and turkey dogs. TURKEY DOGS! (I do it for the PIGS! Think of the piiiiiiigs!)

The good news of course is that we do have disposable income. Which can easily become investment income. Or "Make a Damn Sandwich at Home Once In a While" Income. So, as Chris said we're "Going Commando" (he's so cute when he's angry - he wore fatigues today and everything). We're making over my mad spending skillz.

Last night we bought the Total Money Makeover (yes! we went and bought another book! see how quickly we learn?) and already it's blowing me away. (So it's actually possible to live a life with CASH? And no DEBT? Huh. And what is this you claim about the SUN warming the EARTH?)

I can't believe I've been doing this. I'm still in shock. TURKEY DOGS???


I Need Your Two Cents

Question: How much do you spend on inessentials every month?* Like Starbucks, bookstores, Target, and eating out? This DOES NOT include groceries.

I must know because Chris just made me look at last month's bank statement and OH. MY. GOD.

*You can answer anonymously if you're shy.

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Beauty Booty

Ooooh, I was sassy yesterday! I like it.

Okay, on to beauty products. And my face! Which keeps sloughing!

A few weeks ago I mentioned these Philosophy products: The Present, which is a primer that goes on before your foundation and Hope and a Prayer, which is a serum sort of thing that you mix with your moisturizer at night.

the present Now, The Present goes on smoothly providing sort of a weightless waxy base, smoothing over all the lines in your face. It was AMAZING for the first two weeks. My makeup looked flawless. Then I started breaking out. BUT. I go to the gym with makeup on (I know, right?) and I think sweating with the whole pores are filled with wax thing doesn't go over too well.

Other people emailed me suggesting the Smashbox Primer and I think Amalah swears by this one as well, but the research I did suggests it is not for dry skin (not for me since tumbleweeds skitter across my face). Further, the buzz is that if you like Smashbox Primer, you'll love ERA Spray Primer. (Anyone else weirded out by spraying your face like a hot rod?)

For dry skin, I've read that Sue Devitt Microquatic Blue Anti-Aging Primer is supposed to be the most moisturizing, so the next time I'm at Sephora I'm picking that up. Has anyone tried it by chance?

The Present Primer Bottom Line: The Present is great for fine lines and excellent for enlarged pores. It doesn't do much to disguise deep wrinkles though. Do not wear it if you're going to be sweating. Be sure to use a good moisturizer underneath.

hope and a prayer Hope and a Prayer comes in a jar full of individual capsules. You squeeze one capsule into your moisturizer every night. The delivery system is very slick and greasy feeling going on, but I like this because I know the retinol in it is very drying. I've read you should lie down for 15 minutes after applying it so that it can sink in, so that's what I do (actually, I stay there for an hour watching Tivo, but who's counting?).

This also became a little drying after two weeks with some flaking. But, the results! Oh my God, it works. My laugh lines are fainter than my frown lines to begin with (unexpected personality assessment - awesome!). I first noticed the faint laugh lines around my mouth disappearing within four days! The deeper frown lines in my forehead are just now starting to seem less noticeable after three weeks of continuous use.

Hope and a Prayer Bottom Line: This really works to erase fine lines and even skin tones. Not so much on pore minimizing. I recommend that you keep up on your water intake, a good daily moisturizer, and a weekly moisture mask to combat the drying effect though.

Okay, now a (lot of) question(s) for you:

I recently started using a Powder Bronzer and I love it! My face instantly looked thinner and I had cheekbones for the first time. But. I picked it up at the drugstore and I am embarrassed to even tell you the brand. It rhymes with "Nevlon".

Now that I'm willing to invest in a Bronzer, any suggestions?

Also, Blushes: Do you know of a good powder blush that isn't drying? Or a good cream blush that won't cause breakouts? I've been stabbing at tiny rocks for the last two months. And I don't even like the color. See?

Frugal much?

Blushes I'm Checking Out:

This new cheek stain - Becca Beach Tint - is supposed to be so hot that Sephora can't keep it in stock. Why does that make me completely convinced that it's the PERFECT COLOR FOR ME?

Tarte Cheek Stain - I know one of you has tried this. Is it natural looking?

Facial Bronzer I'm Trying:

Dior Bronze Sun Glowing Moisturizer - I like this because you can pick your skin tone and it's supposed to go on light, natural, and sheer. We shall see.

I'll give these a try and report back. With pictures! Of my pores! Wheeee! Also? I will share with you the Very Special Secret to creating cheekbones and the illusion of having lost ten pounds. Seriously.

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Stating the Obvious (?)

I think I've done you a disservice.

I received an email recently that asked me if I was sure that I wanted another child so badly when I seemed to do a lot of complaining about parenting my first. My first reaction was to send a terse reply along the lines of "Thanks for the unsolicited advice! It's my favorite!". But, then I started thinking about what I write here and how often I write about the woes of parenting and the annoyances of life. And I realized I couldn't blame her for thinking that (I do reserve the right to blame her for saying it though).

So, to set the record straight: I love my daughter with the heat of seven suns. I love being her mommy. I love her sweet sweet face and shrill giggle and gap-toothed grin. I love her soft skin and upturned button nose. I love her fleshy little arms wrapped around me.

But, I assume you know that. I also assume you know that I love my husband even though he pisses me off. And I love flowers and sunshine and puppy dogs and ponies. Just so there's no more confusion.

The thing with writing about parenting is that we write to connect, to empathize, to relate. You can only read about the wonder that is Savannah for so long until you wonder "Okay, where's the good stuff? The stuff that makes me feel like I'm not the only one struggling out here sometimes? You know, the snot and vomit and whining and fighting and stircraziness and laundry and frustration?". Just because we share these things does not mean that we don't have a steady undercurrent of love for our children and fascination with the job we have in raising them.

So, in answer to Miss Email Person, yes. Yes, I am sure that I want another child. And yes I am sure that I will bitch and moan about that one too. And yes, I will love them with every beat of my heart. So there.

Big Girl
"If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with me."

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Friday DriveBy: Weak End Indeed

(Weekend? Weak End, get it? Am very clever, me.)

So, I haven't done the Friday DriveBy recently because I forgot about it I made the decision to give you people a break from the lists because once I start lists I can't seem to stop. But, I do have a good list going so why keep it to myself?

Things I Am Grateful For This Week or Products I Apparently Seem to Be Reviewing For Free (Why?)

Thank you to:

  • Starbucks for coming up with this fantastic idea when I had no idea what to get my husband for his Special Day (everyone in the family gets one a year - we don't do birthdays). Because apparently having my pictures all over the Internet is not enough and I would like to have Chris hand carry them around town.
  • My Food Diary for helping me lose five pounds! This seriously is the most comprehensive, yet user-friendly food and exercise journal I've ever seen. Before you start though let me warn you that you'll get frownie faces if you have Diet Pepsi and Taffy cookies for dinner...I'm guessing. Still, it's so much better than Weight Watchers Points system, which made me gouge my eyes out with a melon baller.
  • This Pixel Chix toy that Savannah received as a gift because she played with it for three whole days before abandoning it. (Not bad, as you likely know.) It's a mall with separate screens for pixel girl's apartment and boutique. It's supposed to do other things (pet store, hair salon) but our pixel seems to have an eating disorder because she just keeps ordering pizzas and burgers by phone. Although Savannah never tires of her using the bathroom where you see her walk off the screen and then hear the toilet flush. (With all that cheese, can you blame her?)The coolest thing is it hooks up to the Pixel Car, which we already had, so they become interactive. No, wait. The coolest thing is that it's ONE FRIGGIN PIECE because AHHHHHHH!
  • The government for finally pulling their thumbs out of their hats and realizing what a logistical nightmare they've created by requiring every American to obtain a passport if they plan to travel by air or sea within the next six weeks. Like to, I don't know, Mexico in February! On Princess Cruises! See? Preeeetty. They've lifted the sea travel requirements which means $360 we don't have to spend! On papers! And instead on things like photos with donkeys and crochet bikinis! Woot! Thanks Government.
  • The Philosophy products I talked about before? Sorry that I forgot to come back and mention that they ROCK. Buy them. My laugh lines have totally disappeared. Although: I haven't been laughing much. Sort of like you during this post. Ha!
  • My best friend for suggesting that we have lunch today. I shall wear my best jeans and flat iron my hair. For my wine likes me to look pretty.

**I cannot believe I still haven't written about our party last weekend! That's up next.


"Oh Lena. This day isn't going to waste itself!"


Oh, Was That Out Loud?

Melodramatic much?

Thanks for indulging me and saying those lovely things in my last post. I tend to get all sappy about anniversaries.

(Like that time with my first real boyfriend in college and I wouldn't stop celebrating our month anniversaries even after we were together TWO YEARS. And finally he was like "Lena stop!" or maybe it was "Lena stop waiting for me outside my house! I broke up with you!". But, I'm pretty sure it was the first one. Whatever. He looked like Curious George.)

Moving on to other things. Of the, uh, lesbian variety. Yeah, that's right. I said it.

So our Secret Agent Babysitter has been a little quiet and emotional lately. She's been coming over a lot more often and sitting wordlessly in front of our television. I was fine with that because at least she wasn't trying to sell my daughter to gypsies again. But, last night SAB's mom came over to "warn me" that she found a note in SAB's jeans from another 10 year old girl.

And this is what the note said:

"I am bi-sex. Are you? Will you be my girlfriend?"

I was in the middle of baking cookies when she told me (God, I am so suburban it hurts me) and I almost put my head in the oven.

Is this REALLY what I have to look forward to in FIVE SHORT YEARS? This cannot possibly be normal behavior for a ten year old, can it? I remember fifth grade vividly and there were alot of Barbies and Scholastic Books. And we'd play M-A-S-H (remember that? Mansion Apartment Shack House?). And ride our bikes. I never once was thinking about another girl's va-jay-jay. I left that to Cyndi Lauper.

So, my question is two-fold:

1) Do you think this is an isolated event? Or are 10 year old kids really this knowledgeable now?

2) Should I be concerned about SAB playing with Savannah? Do you think this is a warning sign of influence my five year old is not ready for? Or would that be overreacting?


P.S. - Oh. Also? As if this didn't happen like fourteen months ago. Way to deliver news People.

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I do not think that I am satisfied without stress in my life. As a matter of fact I know this is true.

After my dad died (two years ago already - wow) it became obvious that I was doomed to live a life fraught with anxiety. Free floating anxiety so overwhelming that it ate a hole through my stomach last year. Anxiety so debilitating that I lost ten pounds in 30 days.

When I was about 17 my friend's family got a kitten. (I swear this is going somewhere applicable.) They were an emotionally vacant family - one which operated smoothly with rules, but without affection. They had never had a pet before. Twenty years of being a family and not even a fish. I still remember this kitten: a little ball of white fur with a wet pink nose and big clumsy paws. She was always hopping like a bunny and would immediately wrestle with whatever or whoever was willing to engage her (normally me). My friend wasn't home often and neither were her two sisters. This left the kitten largely with the stand-offish parents of my friend.

This once carefree kitten had been living with my friend's family for about six months when she started to chew through her flesh.

It started as licking and then eventually she just started to gnaw away at herself, creating holes. As a huge cat lover, I will always remember the look of that little kitten when I saw her for the last time. But, the lasting impression came from the veterinarian's explanation: the kitten was anxious.

I can still see my friend's mother coolly relaying this information over her shoulder as she unloaded groceries. This was followed by the news that she had the kitten euthanized to "put her out of her misery".

While I hadn't thought about that kitten in a decade, she kept coming back to me - popping into my mind in the months following my father's death. As I tried to reassemble my life back here at home, as I tried to replace the images of cancer and suffering and fear and death with dance recitals and laundry and grocery shopping and simple conversation, this kitten haunted me.

Because while I went through the motions of wife, mother, friend, daughter my internal thoughts were riddled - diseased - with fear.

I spent hours Googling symptoms. I spent days palpating imaginary lumps. I spent weeks waiting for doctor's appointments where all I would do is cry when the doctor would warily, but gently, suggest that perhaps I should allow him to prescribe me something.

I would wake up in the middle of the night gripped with fear over my mom or my husband dying and leaving me. I would have nightmares of my father's face. I would check on Savannah six, seven, eight times during the night. I couldn't concentrate on a book, I would struggle to understand when my best friend or husband would speak, I would feel pain when I heard my daughter's laughter because I didn't want my darkness to shadow her light.

I was chewing through my fur.

And then I started to write.

And as I wrote, the emotions - the fear - just spilled out all over the page like waves of heavy sobs. My sorrow, my guilt, my anxiety, my trauma rushed out in a torrent of emotions. And I wrote and wrote and wrote. I wrote about how furious I was that he left me without ever making me feel like a good person, I wrote about how he damaged me as a self-respecting woman, I wrote about how I inherited his horrible parenting skills, I wrote about how he cheated me out of what I deserved, I wrote about my anger over his weaknesses. I wrote about my pity for him, my respect, my understanding, my compassion, my guilt. My undying love.

And as I wrote the answers came to me: I realized that worry gave me control; a false sense of safety. And that by worrying over everything I felt sure I would not miss what I should be worried about. A shadowboxer, if you will. I was blindly swinging. And I felt like if I stopped, life would get me. The only problem is that my swinging was destroying me.

It started as a poem. And then turned into a blog. And every day I would sit down and release a little more of my anxiety and little by little it became less crippling. My words were my medicine. And they continue to be.

So, as I celebrate my one year blogging anniversary I thank you. Each and every one of you. For reading these words. And for helping me to fix myself.

The View
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I'm This Close To Buying Pictures of Other People's Dogs

My mom has Savannah this weekend and I am drunk with availability. I can do laundry. I can do shopping. I can do Bar Mitzvahs and weddings.

I can annoy the living hell out of my husband.

Actual conversation between Chris and I this morning:

"Chris come look at Dooce's new calendar. Chuck is SO yummy."

"Lena, I really can't. I'm trying to WORK."

"You think you're better than me?"

(sigh) "No, I don't. I just have a deadline that I..."

"What I am doing is very important. I am spending your money as you simultaneously make it. Right. Next. To. You. You see the synergy between us?"

"That's depressing."

"With every click of my mouse another dollar is spent. I am your motivation. The fire under your ass."

"I'd rather not look at it that way."

"Oh, look. I just bought shoes. Just while you were talking. See how quickly it happens?"

"FINE," *steps away from his desk and comes over*, "I will look at Dooce's calendar."

"I'm willing to do a centerfold and it's like you don't even CARE."

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